Playing House
by Doctor Strangelove
Summary: Mohinder and Sylar have a discussion about Sylar's hobby. Slash [SylarMohinder]


**Title: **Playing House  
**Author: **Doctor Strangelove  
**Fandom: **Heroes  
**Rating: **PG  
**Pairing: **Mohinder/Sylar  
**Summary: **Mohinder and Sylar have a discussion about Sylar's ahem _hobbby_.  
**Spoilers: **Season one, just to be safe.  
**Warnings: **Fairly fluffy. Brief mentions of violence and disregard for human life.  
**A/N: **First Heroes fic. A slightly different take on the Sylar/Mohinder/Molly family dynamic.

The street Mohinder Suresh lived on was usually a nice, normal, quiet place to live. That was, in fact, the reason he chose to move there. A tiny suburban town seemed like the ideal place to raise Molly in a loving and most importantly _safe_ manner. Suburbs are much less frequently sites of criminal debauchery. At least, Mohinder had always thought so. The multiple police cars positioned outside his neighbor's house seemed to suggest otherwise.

_ What is this neighborhood coming to? _Mohinder thought as he attempted to unlock his front door whilst handling two overstuffed bags of groceries.

"Honey, I'm home," he called out as he entered the kitchen and began to put away the groceries. "Molly, they didn't have the cookies you like at the store, so I picked up some animal crackers inste-"

Mohinder's train of thought was interrupted as he turned away from the pantry and suddenly noticed the man standing at his kitchen sink. The man whose clothes were completely splattered with blood. The man who was washing more blood of his hands.

"Hi, Mohinder," Sylar said with a sheepish grin on his face.

Mohinder could only glare at the bloodstained man as he thought of the best way to proceed with the situation. "Sylar?"

"Yes, dear?"

Mohinder rubbed his temples in an attempt to hold off the migraine he knew was coming. "While I was out, did you happen to, oh, I don't know, use your telekinesis to horribly butcher the neighbors?"

Sylar paused and looked off, as if trying to remember, before responding, "Define 'butcher.'"

"_Sylar_."

"I may or may not have gone out for a snack while you were at the store."

Mohinder crossed his arms and gave Sylar his best angry stare. "And you left Molly all by herself?" he scolded.

Sylar finished washing his hands and began to dry them off, "Oh, she was fine. I was gone for five minutes."

"What kind of example are you setting for her, pulling a stunt like that?" Mohinder sighed as he leaned against the counter.

Putting down the hand towel, Sylar crossed the kitchen and gently kissed Mohinder on the forehead. "That we are the next step in evolution and that means taking certain measures to ensure that we are the most dominant species on the planet. We are gods among ants. Mother Nature and evolution both say that they strong must prey on the weak in order to survive." Sylar smiled and kissed Mohinder again. "In other words, to make a omelet you're gonna have to break a few eggs."

"How poetic." Mohinder did not share Sylar's smile. "But what are you teaching her about keeping a low profile? Shirking responsibilities? Spoiling your appetite before dinner?"

As a response Sylar draped his arms around Mohinder's neck and began to softly kiss the other man's neck. "I may not have covered all those areas."

Unable to stay mad in his current situation, Mohinder shrugged and decided to drop the issue, "Did you at least get anything useful out of the event?"

Sylar pulled away with a boyish grin on his face, "Glad you asked." With a turn of his head, Sylar moved a potted plant from the kitchen table into his hand. After a quick wave with the other hand, the flower and grass inside the pot suddenly began to grow and bloom.

"Practical," Mohinder nodded with approval.

"I know. No wonder the Hendersons always had such a good looking lawn." Sylar moved the plant back to its original position. "And thanks to Mrs. Henderson, I now know how to juggle."

Mohinder grinned and began to put away the rest of the groceries, "Slightly less practical."

"But fun," Sylar smirked as he pulled a trio of oranges from the grocery bag to demonstrate his new talent.

"Can you please just wait until we're on vacation or go into the city the next time you decide to increase your repertoire?"

Sylar frowned as he dropped one of the oranges, "You know I hate to commute."

"Well could you at least _try _to refrain yourself from killing anyone else on our street? For me?" Mohinder put on his best sad face, knowing Sylar wouldn't be able to resist.

"Oh, alright. I don't think there's anyone else special living here anyway." Sylar had grown bored with juggling and was now floating the oranges around himself. "Although I would like to know how Old Mrs. Flannerty gets her pumpkin pie to taste so good."

Mohinder plucked one of the oranges from the air and began to peel it, "Sylar, I hardly think pumpkin pie counts as reaching the next step in evolution."

"Have you ever tasted her pie?"

"I nearly had a heart attack when I saw all those cops," Mohinder said, ignoring Sylar's question. "I swear for a second I thought I saw Matt Parkman out there."

"I sincerely doubt that," Sylar chuckled as he telekinetically started to peel the other two oranges. "Unless the local police department is in the habit of resurrecting the dead."

"I don't know," Mohinder said, sliding an orange slice into Sylar's mouth, "Brainless zombies sounds about right from what I've seen of them."

"Any progress on expanding the list?" Sylar sliced the other two oranges in the air and moved them onto a plate. "Today's expedition got me craving a little more evolutionary advancement."

Mohinder's pleasant demeanor faltered just slightly, so slightly that a normal person would not have noticed. Sylar, being equipped with super hearing and telepathy (among other skills), did notice. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. It's not important."

Sylar reached out his hands to massage Mohinder's shoulders, "Come on. Tell me. Don't make me force it out of you."

"It's all this evolution talk. I love you and Molly, and I love how you're both… special. It's just sometimes I feel a little left out. I mean, if they the two of you are Homo Superior, where does that leave me?"

"I suppose just… homo." Sylar offered and then laughed at his own joke, quickly stopping when he saw the stern look on Mohinder's face. "Sorry. That wasn't funny."

A smile broke Mohinder's serious façade, "Actually, it rather was."

"Now don't go thinking I'm going to leave you behind. I'm perfectly content with living the domestic life. Hell, I gave up the exciting world of politics to play house with you. I could've been president, you know."

Now it was Mohinder's turn to laugh, "Oh, yes, and that would've turned out fantastically, I'm sure. I can just hear the paparazzi now. 'Oh look; it's President Petrelli and his family. There's his wife and two sons. And there's his geneticist and foster daughter."

Sylar cracked a wry grin, "Don't forget the illegitimate teenage daughter and overly affectionate brother."

"That brother would've been keeping his hands off."

Sylar snickered as he wrapped his arms around Mohinder, "Oh so now it comes out. You didn't want me to be president because of petty jealousy. How very beneath you, Dr. Suresh."

"Not at all," Mohinder feigned innocence, "I'm sure you could've just taken Peter Petrelli's powers, and then you wouldn't have had to ever worry about being exposed as a brain eater. It would've relieved loads of stress off of everyone's soldiers."

"Not the Petrelli brothers."

"I'm certain death is fairly stress free."

Sylar rested his head against Mohinder's and tightened his grip, "I'm certain that I'm much happier right here than I would've been in the White House."

"Glad to hear it," Mohinder kissed Sylar on the cheek and broke the other man's grasp. "Now I need to get started on dinner. If you're still hungry, that is."

"Starved."

"Good. Do you want to me to make you some Chai tea beforehand?"

Sylar gave Mohinder a wary glance, "That depends. Is it drugged?"

"Sylar, I'm shocked," Mohinder grinned, "This early in the evening? It's barely six o'clock. Wait till Molly goes to bed. I've got something extra special planned."

"I can't wait," Sylar moved away to give Mohinder room to cook and called up the staircase, "Molly, sweetheart, can you come down here for a minute? And bring your atlas. Daddy needs your help finding someone."

"_Sylar_."

"What? After dinner snack."


End file.
